


Solace of a Grave

by Maskerade



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maskerade/pseuds/Maskerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John never wanted to confide in anyone. He always wanted to tell Sherlock everything, and after the fall John begins to tell his secret's to Sherlock's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic... It's all from John's POV, and the chapters are going to be relatively short. Shoutout to iamthesidekick for being my beta. (I'm also not sure how quickly I'll be able to get chapters out but I'll do my best to do one once a week.)  
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I began to walk towards the black gravestone that bore my best friend’s name. It had been a little over two years since he jumped, and this was the first day I felt strong enough to visit his grave. I halted when I reached it; he would have made a remark on how militaristic my posture was at the moment. I smiled and tried to ignore the welling of tears in my eyes, then opened my mouth to speak and cleared my throat. I had to get everything out.  
“Sherlock Holmes, it’s been a while since I last saw you. When you fell, I…” I swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, “I didn’t know what to do. I was depressed, so alone, and you were my best friend. Well, you still are. I still believe in you. You didn’t lie to me, that’s one thing I’m sure of. You wouldn’t hurt me. See... I met someone, Mary, she reminds me of you at times and, well, you’d like her. I think. I almost wish you were here so you could deduce her, because I really think she’s the one, Sherlock. She understands me and she doesn’t pity me like everyone else does.”  
At the thought of Mary, I smiled. Her beauty and intelligence. She kept me grounded and she just knew everything I was too afraid to tell.  
“She’s so wonderful. I’m going to propose to her soon. Will you be my best man? I don’t know who else to ask, but if you were here, it would be you. You were always there, always ready with some new adventure. I miss those. The clients. The danger. You were like a drug to me, and I know it’s unhealthy, but I don’t care. I miss the late nights, the sound of your violin, the body parts in the fridge…. sometimes I go to the park, just to sit and watch. I can even hear your voice sometimes, telling me about affairs and various skeletons in closets.  
Just... don’t be dead. I remember every word I said to you - you were the best, Sherlock, you still are, and I want you back. But I know it won’t happen. I’m not alone anymore, and I think you’d be happy for me. Perhaps even jealous? I loved you, Sherlock, and I miss you. I think about you every day, and with Mary, things aren’t perfect, but they aren’t so bad.”  
Taking a look at my watch, I sighed.  
“I have to go now, Mary’s expecting me. I wish I could say that I’d see you soon. Maybe I’ll bring Mary by sometime, introduce you both.” I laughed, but there was no warmth in it.  
“You’d make fun of me now, talking to your headstone like you can still hear me.”  
I touched the top of it, the black stone gleaming at me. It was cold. It brought me back down to earth, and I retracted my hand. I gave a short nod and marched away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the grave the night Sherlock reveals himself to be alive.

My thoughts were racing as quickly as the scenery outside the taxi window. I stared blankly as we passed by London life. Mary didn’t know I had left. I could only focus on one thought amidst the millions in my mind: My best friend is alive. He bloody lied to me! That bastard!  
The taxi came to a stop, and I paid the driver what was owed, and added a slight tip to it. My feet carried me and I found myself staring down at the cursed black gravestone that bore the name of Sherlock Holmes.  
“You bloody cock. You lied to me. You let me believe you were dead for two damn years.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I steadied myself. It would be a bit not good to start yelling in a cemetery. I snorted at the thought.  
“I was trying to propose to Mary when I realized who you were. I was so worried about myself that I didn’t even notice you at first. You were just another face…I can’t believe you actually had me fooled. Your French accent isn’t even good.  
Sherlock, you know things won’t be exactly like they were. I wish they could be. But I moved on. You didn’t leave me any other choice. I want to be back with you, running through London. But I’m going to marry Mary. She likes you, you know. I’m surprised. But I shouldn’t be.  
She seems worried about something, though. On the way home, she was too quiet. I don’t want to press. You’d tell me, if you knew, wouldn’t you? To protect me. Again.”  
I dug my toe into the ground and clenched my fist.  
“You should have let me help you. I know about war, Sherlock. And that’s what was going on between you and Moriarty. It was a war, not a game. Why didn’t you trust me? Damn you, Sherlock Holmes. I’ll let you back in again, because you are my best friend. I care about you more than anyone. More than Mary, even. I shouldn’t even talk to you. I need to go. I can’t talk to you anymore. I need to calm down. I need to think.”  
I made a sharp about face and walked away swiftly before I could change my mind.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I relaxed against the headstone. I needed to get my emotions under control. Why was it that only John could make me feel such guilt and sorrow? I love the man. I need him. I only followed him because I was unsure of where he was going after he left his and Mary’s flat. I was worried. I never knew that he would come here.  
How often did he come and speak to my grave as thought it were me?  
I stood up and wiped the dirt and grass from my trousers and coat. I turned the collar up and walked silently towards the entrance to the graveyard. I needed to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on it, but some bits will be from Sherlock's POV, as well. I think I'll have a chapter from Mary at some point soon.  
> I hope you enjoyed it! (this chapter wasn't proofed so forgive any horrible mistakes.)


End file.
